Snowflakes in the Wrong Place
by silversurf4
Summary: Christmas in LA. Crews & Reese if you squint. Just a simple one-shot. Merry Christmas


"_No snowflake ever falls in the wrong place." ~~Buddhist Tennant_

The bright yellow sun was beating down on them as they sat in their blue four-door nondescript unmarked car, which at the moment was mired in heavy afternoon traffic. It was two days before Christmas in the City of Angels and Dani Reese was just trying to get through the day without her partner noticing the holiday at all. It was a pipe dream; but it was her dream.

The man she worried would wake up to the holiday sat in the passenger seat content to wait patiently in the seventy-degree warmth and stare at palm trees. He appeared to be oblivious to the holiday, despite the crimson clad Santa dressed in surf shorts in front of red kettles on clean LA sidewalks. The "bell ringing wackos" set Reese's teeth on edge and all the smiling made her head hurt. She just wanted the holiday to be over. New Years was a holiday she used to get into, but since she'd sworn off alcohol (again) it didn't hold any special charm anymore either.

Mostly, she just wanted to get past the next two weeks and back into a normal rhythm of 3AM phone calls and dead bodies. Luckily fate was helping her in that regard, Tidwell was in New York with his mother. Her own mother had elected to visit relatives out of state leaving Dani Reese with a rare, uninterrupted four days off work. She intended to keep it that way. Tidwell awkwardly floated the idea of exchanging gifts before she shut him down entirely. Now she didn't need to worry about buying him anything or vice versa. Crews had more money than god, so he could have anything he wanted; there was no need to buy anything for a millionaire. Her mother didn't celebrate the holiday anymore since her father left. Problem solved, she'd be nowhere near a mall or department store for the next month.

There was not a string of tinsel, a lit bulb or a scrap of gift-wrap anywhere near her sparse apartment. Of course, her apartment was equally devoid of food, which meant she'd need to live on take-out or brave the supermarket this weekend – studiously avoiding hams, turkeys and stuffing. The thought or more accurate the loathing of visiting the supermarket so preoccupied her that she missed it – Crews noticing the bright lights and faux ice skaters with ear muffs in the window of a nearby store front.

A smile crept across his face and he glanced at his partner. "Reese," he questioned.

She scowled and risked a glance over his way. He was smiling and that usually meant trouble. She sighed heavily, "what?"

"I know what you're thinking," he offered cheerily. "You think I'm gonna ask you about Christmas. You know… Christmas gifts, Christmas plans, Christmas dinner," he rambled in explanation.

"But you're not…right?" she hopefully interrupted him.

"Right," he returned to his original point. "But we aren't getting anywhere and neither of us have some place we need to be, people to shop for or plans for later so could we stop for… uh…dinner?"

His simple request and the way he rationalized it made her smile. He was right, but she ribbed him anyway, "I am absolutely not eating fruit."

His smile was real and it reached his bright blue eyes. "No, no fruit. I promise," he almost laughed.

Suddenly it occurred to her that she'd never seen Charlie Crews laugh. In three years, she'd seen him angry, vicious and violent; she'd seen him glib, flippant, curious and confused, but never so filled with joy that he laughed. The idea made her sad for no reason and angry that he couldn't find joy, even though she also suffered from the same lack of wonder and joy in her life. Of all the things that were taken from him that was the one she noticed and cared about perhaps because it was so simple. In fact it pissed her off, enough that she felt compelled to have dinner with him, something she almost never did.

"Okay," she agreed. No conditions, no rules, just something that he wanted that she could give.

Once she'd agreed, Crews gave her nothing further. No commentary, no direction, no suggestions, just a sighed confession of "Great, I'm starving."

"So what? Tacos, burgers, Chinese…" She gave him choices, options, control, something she rarely ceded to him.

He turned in his seat to examine her. He looked her up and down. She felt like he was assessing something, but she couldn't tell what. She looked down. They'd been in court all day so they were both dressed well. She was dressed in a sedate, black business suit with a pale pink shirt. She shifted her gaze to him and watched as his gaze focused down. He was wearing a conservative navy blue pin striped suit with a pale blue shirt that matched his eyes.

"Let's go some place nice," he offered smiling, all his teeth showed.

"Where?" she asked, looking mildly frightened at the prospect.

"The Little Door," he offered shyly, "it's just dinner, Reese."

She nodded mutely and felt something imperceptible shift in her universe. She was going to dinner with Charlie Crews. Not a taco stand, not In-and-Out Burger in the car, but to a real dinner, at a restaurant and for some reason it made her mouth go slightly dry.

"Will this place have drinks?" she joked.

His smile this time held a secret in it; one she found she wanted to know. The Little Door was a hot ticket in LA; one you couldn't just walk in to. So she took her time parking the car expecting a disappointed red head to come trudging back to the car any minute, but he didn't. He stood lounging against the front entrance and stood tall the moment she appeared smoothing his coat like an anxious suitor.

"Just dinner, my ass," she mumbled as she approached and he opened the door. It seemed he'd learned how to use some of his rumored millions as they were quickly ushered into the quiet blue room where a completely unnecessary fire crackled in the fireplace. The staff had turned down the air conditioner to make the fire more desirable and seated them next to the hearth.

"Crews," she warned under her breath as he pulled out her chair. "This is not a date," she hissed in warning.

"Uh-huh," he agreed.

The waiter neared as the table attendant poured water. Crews waved the waiter over and made a request, winked at Dani and then grinned. "What'd you do?"

"I just asked them to bring us some sparkling cider instead of wine. Did you want red? Cause I asked for white…but I can…"

"White's fine," she interrupted.

"Technically, it's just juice," he teased.

"It's fine," she told him. This time her answer was paired with a smile.

"Hey," he leaned across his menu and offered conspiratorially. "Let's order appetizers for each other. Come' on Reese – it'll be fun. Let's see how well we know each other."

"Fine," she looked down and focused on the menu. She almost commented on the prices, but then she recalled he didn't worry about little things like money anymore. It took her less than ten seconds to narrow her choice down to two things: Belgian endive salad with tangerines & pomegranate seeds or Dungeness crab meat, avocado, pink grapefruit & shaved fennel. They were the only appetizers with fruit in them and she thought he'd appreciate that. She looked up and examined him reviewing the menu, choosing for her. He smiled and she knew he'd decided.

The waiter came and she ordered him the crab. His eyes showed both surprise and appreciation and then he ordered a half a dozen oysters on the half shell for her. His brow arched in question and she nodded her assent. Her brain marveled at his intuition. She'd picked the only things on the menu that featured fruit, but _how did he know she loved oysters?_

She expected awkwardness and long pregnant pauses, but he chatted openly about his lack of plans and his intent to sleep late all weekend and then to drive an expensive remote control car he'd just bought through his house at frightening speeds. She laughed at the look on his face when she asked if he'd considered starting on the second floor and watching it negotiate the winding marble stairs.

Their appetizers arrived and they were fantastic. She relaxed as the discreet waiter poured more sparkling apple cider and chastised Crews because he broke his promise of no fruit as she waggled her glass in front of him. He turned an amazing color of pink and she realized he truly meant what he'd promised. Her soft smile and gentle, "I'm joking, it's fine," eased his embarrassment.

He ordered the rib-eye steak, medium rare and she ordered the lamb, the same way. If she were at home her mother would make lamb and something about the prospect of the familiarity warmed her, as did the easy company of her partner. The evening wore on and she began to open up to Crews about her happiness at the prospect of four uninterrupted days of peace. He asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she stared hard at him, until she realized it was a simple, honest question. So she told him, "a long hot bath, bubbles optional."

Finally, after three long years she heard the sound of Charlie Crews' laugh. It was a rich tone, like a deep bell ringing and it felt like a gift to her. His trust, his confidence and his friendship warmed her more than the fire and the food. When the entrees arrived, they ate in companionable silence except for groans of delight from the taste of the food, which made them both smile.

"I was really hungry," he confessed, wiping his face with his linen napkin. "Want dessert?"

"God, no," she confessed. "I'm stuffed."

"Do you mind if I…" he waved the waiter over and asked for the dessert menu. She shook her head, but he closed the little menu and tempted his fate, "on second thought." He knew Reese's weakness for coffee and played to his strength. He waggled his brows mischievously, "how about just a couple cappuccinos?"

She nodded and acquiesced. The coffee was so rich and smooth it was decadent. Her smile spoke appreciation for his gesture and thoughtfulness. She was struck by the contrast between her current gracious dinner date and the man she was currently romantically involved with. There was a wide gulf Tidwell could never cross. Even with Crews' money, he wouldn't approach the care with which her partner approached her.

He revered her, adored her and it was apparent to them both in quiet moments like this. He looked away lest she see him watching her enjoy her coffee, her meal and his company. It was, after all, "not a date."

"Crews," she called him back to her as he placed a several hundreds in the waiter's hand and urged him to keep the change. "Was this about Christmas? And us both having no family and no friends?"

"We have friends, Reese. We have family."

She twisted her head in her unique manner of inquiry.

"You're my friend; you're my family," he said cautiously watching her closely. They looked closely at one another. Two people brought together by fate or circumstance. His imprisonment, his release, his return to the force - it all led him to her; her drug addiction, her censure, her fall from grace, their partnering – it all led her to him.

"No snowflake ever falls in the wrong place," he said.

She held his eyes and nodded with just them. Acceptance - it was a start.


End file.
